


Halos and Smoke (An Original Work)

by Oz_of_Wald



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Original Character(s), Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:02:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26013070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oz_of_Wald/pseuds/Oz_of_Wald
Summary: This is a work featuring my original characters. Read it if you want, but I’ll be sharing this with my friends as they seem to know a lot more about them then others. That’s fine tho.
Kudos: 1





	Halos and Smoke (An Original Work)

**Author's Note:**

> I’d like to thank my friend Blank for motivating me to finish this fic. You a gud friend, bud.

Nearly a year had passed since the incident, the one that left a hole in the heart of a man. That left a family without a sister, a daughter. A friend with one less. The incident that caused the trilogy of torment.  
The death of Elanore was tragic, as the passing of someone so fair and beautiful always is. The world is cruel, Clive had grown up on that saying, but he never thought it could impact him so greatly to the point of his questioning of if he was able to truly love. That summer day had been perfectly filed away in his mind, from the beginning to the dark end.  
The memory of Clive and Elanore passionately dancing to the distant music in a ballroom, hand in hand, the sound of their laughter echoing in the hall. The flickering lights that illuminated their dance floor, bathing the two lovers in a warm golden glow. In that moment, Clive had mapped out every feature of Ellie, every nook and cranny, every freckle and every blemish. High cheekbones, plump red lips curled into a warm smile, and her eyes. Hazel, full of compassion and an emotion one could never describe in a measly sentence. 

His heart had fluttered as he gazed lovingly into her eyes, a dark violet brushing over his features, to which Elanore had reached to his cheek. Cupping it with a warm hand, they continued to dance.  
Clive had never been happier. He had everything. A loving partner, a child on the way, a job and maybe even a better mental state. A wish that most have hoped to be granted, and it had.

Of course, no good things last.

The memories were unbearably painful to reminisce, and for good reason. As happy as they seem, they were spoiled into rot by the clear memory of the fatal afternoon. It had seemed perfectly safe to be out and about the city, with the protection of him and his comrades. Alas, nobody is truly safe in a world like this.  
If he could have seen the signs, he would have done something to prevent the oncoming tragedy.  
A gang had picked up on their location, and the trap had been set.   
Elanore was shot, two bullets in the chest and one through the stomach. He could still hear his own cry of anguish, ringing out through the battlefield of a street. Cradling her now lifeless body against his heaving chest, the bright light drained from her in a matter of seconds. No matter what he did, no matter what he tried, nothing could save her.

An event like that really leaves a man broken.   
Knowing he could have prevented something so easily, failing to protect someone who he had promised to keep safe, it tore a hole in his heart. The aching pain in him had grown to an indescribable size, and he had become so desperate to fix it that every decision was fueled by the agony that trapped him in his own memories.   
Clive was careless. He didn't think it mattered if the decisions he made were questionable or downright horrible, what else did he have to lose?  
Everything eventually comes to bite you back.

Cigarette smoke streamed out of parted lips, a soft breath leaving him as the smoke escaped into the warm night, blurring against the barely visible stars. Broad body leaned against the balcony, arms crossed over the metal rail as he gazed out across the bustling Californian city. It was relatively quiet in the streets below, the occasional gang of delinquents or drunk party goers filling the street with obnoxious sound. No thoughts seemed to run through his mind, as is the usual whenever he takes a break to smoke.  
He cherished moments like these, when his mind is quiet, the only sounds being the passing cars and such. It was rare, and to some, a metaphorical delicacy. The day had been mediocre, boring, a repetitive mess to him. Once again, he had been tasked with accompanying Sybil, the little rat in disguise as a cannibalistic teenager. Nothing but trouble, Clive was sure of it. Everywhere she went, disaster struck, whether it be murder or a simple occurrence that got them both in trouble, causing Clive to resort to gunfire to get them out of the situation. All while she laughed. She laughed. A screeching, witchy laugh, a laugh that only The Devil could make. 

The last few embers of his cigar had burned out, the tiny glowing bits slowly fading, one by one. A gust of smoke poured out from between chapped lips, his eyes fluttering closed as he took a step back from the balcony, tossing the dead cigar to the side. He turned around, making his way back into his hotel room but freezing at the sudden knock at his door. A loud thump sounded out, becoming more insistent as Clive stood and stared. It's 12 am, who the fuck is here at this time? He thought, carefully making his way towards the door, despite his mind screaming at him to stop. This wasn't a good idea, yet something was drawing him towards the door. It was strange, how he seemed to be in a trance, an urge growing to greet whoever was behind the wooden barrier.  
His hand reached the handle. This was his last chance to stop, to just wait until whoever was behind the door gave up and left.   
A small click and a creak, and the door was open. 

Light filled the dark, cold room, and a long shadow cast over the floor and walls.  
He brought his hand over his eyes as he squinted, dark eyes adjusting to the suddenly blinding light. The figure was tall, that's what the man first noticed. Around Clive's height but a bit taller, standing with his hands on his hips, other features blocked out by the shadow cast upon him. The light illuminated his silhouette, peering out from the figure's large form.   
Clive slowly removed his sleeve from over his eyes, blinking slowly as the blinding light started to fade. Well, from what he could see. "Honestly, Clive, you should turn on some lights. You'll ruin your eyes, dear."   
The sentence was jarring. This person knew his name? That wasn't even remotely possible. Unless, of course, this man was an enemy bent on tracking the mafia member down and killing him. Clive took a glance up, taking in this person's features as carefully as he could. The eyes were the first part that caught his attention.   
Bright, almost glowing, blue scleras that peered out from orange pupils. He only prayed they were contact lenses. The man had wavy black locks, flowing over one side of his face like an emo kid from the 2000's. As strange as that comparison is, it was quite true. He wore glasses that were low on his tanned face, and his toothy grin was almost as unsettling as his eyes.   
Clive could only stare, arms crossed over his broad chest and normally narrowed eyes wide with shock. "What? Why so startled?" The man asked, shifting in place, beige coat swaying with each movement. "I-I.. who are you?" Clive managed to ask, taking a few steps back and shoving his hands into his pockets.   
He shifted around for a weapon of some sort, keeping his gaze locked with the man's. "Tazital, but you may call me Taz, love." Taz replied.   
His piercing gaze seemed to switch from Clive's to the other man's pockets, watching as he searched around with intrigued silence.   
"Do you honestly think that I'm here to kill you like some gangster brute?" He asked, to which Clive froze and pulled his hands from his pockets. "Much better."   
It was shocking and mostly weird, to say the least. For one thing, this man hadn't given any explanation on how he knows his name. For another, he didn't know why he was here. Taz seemed to sense his stress, as a small smile formed on his thin lips. "Well, I could explain to you, but you need to calm down first." Taz spoke, to which Clive averted his gaze to the very interesting carpeted floor below.   
Taking a few steps back, he sat down on the hotel bed, hands placed on his lap. What was the technique he learned?   
Right, breathe in for four seconds, breathe out for another four. Something that Ellie would tell him, as she held his hands in her own smaller hands, leaning against him to comfort him in times of total despair. Now he had to cope alone.   
Well, not entirely. This "Taz" was still standing at the doorway, awaiting his go ahead to explain why he was here. As a small, shuddering breath left him, his gaze slowly shifted back over to the other man. 

"Tell me why you're here.. Taz." Clive spoke, as Taz made his way over to the bed. He didn't sit down, but he did lean against the side of the bed, arms crossed into the messy sheets. "Well, I've gotten word that you've been going through some tough shit." He started, as Clive gave him a questioning glance. "Yeah, what's it to you? Why do you care?" He asked, a little snap in his tone. The subject wasn't something he ever brought up, and his colleagues knew to keep any questions to themselves or they'd end up in Sybil's collection of skulls. 

"Well, what if I told you that I could make all your pain.. disappear?" 

The prospect was a little hard to believe. You can't make your troubles disappear, that just wasn't possible. And even if someone proclaimed that they could, would you still believe them? Clive knew he sure wouldn't.   
Yet, there was something off, something different about this man. He didn't seem like some sleazy businessman, or some gang member coming to murder him. His aura was strange, that's for sure, but it was like he was being pulled in by him.   
Could he really help him, and if so, how?

"Are you asking for something in return?" He asked, shifting slightly on the bed, raising an eyebrow quizzically at him. "Yes, I am, actually. All good things come with a price. It's sad, really." Taz replied, bringing one hand to rest on his cheek.   
"And your payment would be?"

"Spend the night with me." 

~___________________________________~

It would be crazy to say Clive actually went along with it. It would be even crazier to say he didn't regret it.   
Even when he could feel sharp nails piercing into his skin, pressing him down and keeping him there, skin on skin and breath mixed with breath- he didn't regret it.  
Even when he let out soft gasps as a hand wrapped around his throat, teeth sinking into his bottom lip hard enough to bleed it- he didn't regret it.  
Even when he had his arms wrapped around Taz's shoulders, face pressed into his shoulders as he whined, back pressed to the wall as the moonlight illuminated their figures in the darkness of the room- he didn't regret it.

Not until the day after, and the years to come.


End file.
